


Mirror Talk

by incorrectpsb



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 23:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17990702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectpsb/pseuds/incorrectpsb
Summary: So since I was about 15, I had this idea for this story about a young woman whose childhood friend was a spirit. They grow up and fall in love. Basically: ghost lesbians. Take that, Bury Your Gays trope!I decided to finally get off my ass and write it. I'm 22 now. Let's see how this goes!





	1. The Giddy Ingenue (Prologue)

_2018_

Liana brought the foundation brush to her cheeks and applied a layer of stage makeup. She was out of practice; she’d never properly learned how to use makeup herself, she’d always relied on Chloe to help her with it. Chloe never complained, of course, as she always did love playing dress up, and Liana was practically her muse. The transformation process was taking a very long time on this particular occasion, as Liana’s hands were shaking and her insides were performing a joyful dance that was making her rather lightheaded.

Chloe, who had been leaning against a wall watching Liana fondly, saw Liana struggling and chuckled to herself.

“Okay, nerd, step aside,” Chloe said, still laughing as she confidently walked over to Liana. Liana hated accepting help from people, or even implying that she needed it, except for where Chloe was concerned. Chloe was the exception to a lot of things. She accepted defeat and laid down her tools.

Chloe disregarded the mirror on the vanity and spun Liana’s chair slightly to the right to face her. She carefully painted Liana’s lips and tickled her cheeks with powder, and all the while she was looking deeply into Liana’s eyes. They were the warmest shade of brown. Seeing them so close for so long transported her briefly back to the time when they were little girls, running through mud puddles to feed the horses and chasing the rivers downstream, hoping one day to catch up with them. It truly seemed like only yesterday.

“Okay, I’m done,” Chloe’s voice cracked. Liana didn’t look like herself. Her black hair was hidden under a magnificent curly blonde wig, and the blue frock she donned for the role contrasted her usual style. Despite all this, however, Liana glowed; this was her dream role. She looked nothing like herself, but all the same, she looked like she was exactly where she belonged.

“What are you grinning at, creeper?” said Liana playfully. She had a very deep voice for a soprano, Chloe had always noticed it.

Chloe raised an eyebrow. “You. Take a look.”

Chloe turned Liana’s chair back around, and both of them gazed into the mirror, but each girl gazed at the other’s reflection, in utter disbelief that they were together at last.

“It’s happening,” Liana blurted out. “It’s really happening.”

Chloe wrapped her arms around Liana’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. Liana shrunk into Chloe’s embrace, closing her eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” Chloe whispered into Liana’s hair. Liana slowly stood up and faced Chloe. They stood so close, breathing heavily, gazing intently into each other’s eyes.

“You’re beautiful too,” said Liana softly. “In every sense of the word.”

They slowly wrapped their arms around each other and held each other intimately. Chloe rested her head against Liana’s shoulder as Liana’s hands stroked Chloe’s dreadlocks. They weren’t used to being able to touch each other like this. They wanted to have each other completely memorised. They’d have become one right there and then if they could have.

The words ‘I love you’ creeped onto the tip of Liana’s tongue, but never found their way out, as they were interrupted by a voice over the tannoy system.

“Cosette to the stage, please,” said the voice of Priscilla, the stage manager. “That’s Cosette to the stage.”

The girls pulled back, and Chloe squeezed Liana’s hands. “Your time to shine, baby.”

Liana took deep breaths, and as she did, the voice sounded again.

 “You got this, Liana." 

Liana burst out laughing, in disbelief that Priscilla had risked straying from her tech script to say that. Chloe giggled too and pressed her forehead to Liana’s.

“See you later, okay?” said Liana, grinning as she moved away from Chloe.

Chloe raised an eyebrow. “See you right now, I’m watching from the wings.”

Liana rolled her eyes and sighed, thinking to herself how much she secretly loved how… much Chloe could be. There had never been anyone as supportive as her in Liana’s life for a very long time.

They walked down the stairs to the wings, hands intertwined, making as little noise as possible. Sound carried in this building, as the director reminded the cast as much as possible. Liana opened the door leading to the stage and immediately got jelly legs. She couldn’t believe this was about to happen, and with Chloe right here. It was so much. She couldn’t do it.

Chloe, for once not literally, read Liana’s mind and wrapped an arm around her to stop her legs from giving out.

“You can do this, Lia,” whispered Chloe, calmly. “You always could. Now go do it. I’m right here.” Chloe squeezed Liana’s hand and let it go. With one last long look at Chloe, hoping to memorise the exact expression on her face, full of pride and joy, Liana turned away from her and walked from the safety and security of the wings onto the bright lights of the stage.

The music from the makeshift orchestra pit made the stage shudder as the chorus bellowed songs of despair and a projector signalled a time jump in the story. Liana could feel the earth shake under her feet, but the minute she stepped on stage the nerves were gone and Cosette took over, just like everyone told her would happen, but despite getting so utterly lost in the character she never stopped being aware of the beautiful pair of eyes watching her with admiration just a few feet away, nor could Liana stop thinking about how much she wanted to be in Chloe’s arms again. After all, Liana very rarely got to be in Chloe’s arms. The fact that Chloe had arms at all was very new.


	2. The House of Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liana makes a new friend, and gives it a name because it doesn't have one.

_2005_

The chill of winter reddened Liana’s cheeks and the tip of her nose as she turned the page of her book with great difficulty, as her hands were protected from the cold by a particularly thick pair of blue gloves. Her black anorak and pompom hat shielded her well too. She held her paperback book with pages that had turned yellow long ago with two hands, with her beloved Snowberry bear tucked under her arm. Snowberry’s fur had lost its softness long ago, but she remained Liana’s constant companion. Liana told all her problems to Snowberry, just so she could talk to someone about them. She knew Snowberry would never answer her, but it was a much better option than talking to Liana’s less than understanding mother.

Her mother, Susan Thomas, had made her promise that morning to try and make friends, and not be “the weird kid”. This was all very embarrassing for Susan. Being Liana’s mother had done her no favours after all whenever she ran into other mothers at parent’s evenings, as she reminded her daughter regularly. However, whether out of spite towards her mother’s thoughtless outbursts or out of fear of communicating with the other children, Liana was alone again that day and had no intention of changing that. She had her own little reading spot under the stairs that led to the back entrance of the school and she wasn’t about to share it with anyone. Nobody would bother her here, not that anyone bothered her at all. The regular bullies had grown tired of tormenting her as she’d finally stopped reacting to them, as the nicer teachers had recommended over the years. It had taken a lot of pride for her to admit that not every problem could be solved with words. The realisation had broken her heart but potentially saved her a few broken bones. Had the cruel children continued in their campaign to make Liana miserable it wouldn’t have ended well for her; they were known to be violent in the past.

In the absence of real friends, Liana often fantasised about what it would be like if Snowberry could talk back to her. In Liana’s imagination, Snowberry always knew exactly what to do and what to say. Snowberry was the only friend she was interested in making, but Susan probably wouldn’t see Liana’s beloved childhood bear as a suitable guest to bring home for dinner.

Liana read her book in silence, savouring every word she could before the bell rang to signal the end of lunch break. It was strange that that bell could be the best sound in the world when it rang for the start of lunch break, and the worst when it rang again to take it away. Nevertheless, she devoured her beloved book, the story that gave her a chance to escape the real world even momentarily, all the while trying her best to ignore the steady dripping of water that was falling on the pages of her book despite the clear absence of rain that day.

*

It was awake. Or at least, it thought it was awake. It wasn’t sure how it knew what being awake was.

It was in a very loud place. Children ran and screamed and kicked footballs back and forth, their words meshing together in an ugly cluster of words, too many conversations to follow and too many faces to memorise. It was overwhelming. It had to get out of there. It needed silence if it was going to figure out what was happening.

It wandered warily, looking for a place to go. It floated through a football pitch that had hastily and inaccurately been painted on the flattest possible area of gravel the playground had to offer. It floated deeper into the strange new world and came upon a small number of shabby picnic tables in a minuscule corner. The football pitch took up most of the grounds, so the picnic table kids that weren’t taking part in the match either due to lack of skill or a dislike of the sport looked very disgruntled, having drawn the short straw so to speak.

Even so, the picnic table kids were loud, and the kids playing football were even louder. It needed a quiet place.

It ventured further away, the hustle and bustle of the playground lessening in volume as it did. However, it couldn’t bring itself to leave entirely. While it didn’t like all the noise, it didn’t want to be alone. Everything was so new. It would be difficult to navigate alone. But in that case, who could it trust?

Just as that thought popped into its head, something different caught its eye. Something quiet, hidden away behind a set of stairs. It moved closer. A little girl was tucked away in there. She was holding the strangest stuffed animal it had ever seen. It wondered if the stuffed animal was supposed to be an oddly shaped polar bear or a hippo that had mistakenly been coloured white.

Still, this little girl was the quietest thing it had come across. She looked peaceful, and it envied her for that. She had to be getting that peace and satisfaction from the book in her tiny hands. Perhaps if it could get a look at what she was reading, then it could be at peace too, as mentally far away from the noise as this little girl was.

It floated in front of her. The little girl had an intense look on her face; large brown eyes darted vertically across the pages. Nothing was going to break her concentration. Unfortunately, there was no way it could see what she was reading from here. The girl’s knees were close to her chest, and her book was resting against her legs. It couldn’t see the title. It couldn’t look over her shoulder, either, as her back was against the wall. It had just come into this world and it was still getting used to its surroundings, it certainly drew the line at reading from inside a solid wall.

No, it couldn’t give up. It had to get away from all this noise. It focused very, very hard on this little girl. It had to see what she was seeing. It had to know the secret to quiet.

The focus paid off, and suddenly, everything was loud and bombastic. It was all so much worse than the noise of the playground.

It was being fed facts a mile a minute that it wanted no knowledge of at all. So many voices were screaming at once, forcing everything about this little girl into its mind. It was being told her every word, every habit, every action, and every heartache. It never asked for this.  It had to stop learning all this, but it couldn’t. The flow of information was colliding with its consciousness. It was too much. No. This had to stop. It had to.

It tried to block everything out. It tried to scream, but nothing came out. It had no voice. It couldn’t see. It couldn’t hear. There was nothing it could do.

*

Liana clutched her right ear. It suddenly really hurt, like a poignant and persistent buzzing. It was so sudden, and very distracting. How irritating, she was on a really good bit of this book.

She didn’t have long left. She wanted to read as much as possible before that bell. She ignored the buzzing and turned her attention back to her book.

*

The noise was fading away. It was safe to look now. The stream of content it didn’t ask for was slowing down. The silence it had craved when it tried to become one with the little girl was within its grasp now.

It began to concentrate on its surroundings. As they came into focus, it realised something extraordinary; it was in the middle of a house of words.

More accurately, an estate of words. The world was made of yellowing parchment, which had constructed paper trees in the paper garden, a paper house with a paper porch and paper smoke rising from the paper chimney. The house was missing a wall and was open for all to see, like a doll’s house. The furniture was built from green hardback books, and the entire house swayed gently in an invisible, unfelt breeze.

The most extraordinary thing about this paper world was the ink. Everywhere, on the walls and in the gardens, all over everything and anything it could see, words were being written down in rapid succession in elegant calligraphy. Words, phrases, questions and answers were being scrawled as far as the eye could see, far quicker than someone could mentally process them. Is this what the girl’s mind looked like? Was it only like this when she read, or was it like this all the time?

It hoped the girl’s mind was always like this. It had grown attached to the house of words. Everything was much quieter when the words were being written down like this, as opposed to screamed constantly and relentlessly. There was a tranquillity about this world that it wanted to be a part of.

It decided it wanted to stay there, but was that its choice to make? Perhaps it should make its intentions known to this little girl.

It did what it had intended from the beginning and looked through the little girl’s eyes. Her name was Liana. It thought back to everything it had learned before, when everything was too loud, and picked out that vital piece of information. Did it really want to call her that? Liana was a bit of a mouthful. It would call her Lia.

It had to talk to her, but it was worried. Liana didn’t look like she wanted to be interrupted when she was reading. What would it say to her? What if Liana wanted her it to leave? It barely knew how it got here, it hadn’t the faintest clue how to leave again. From the information it learned that it could actually process, it knew Liana wasn’t someone who deserved such confusion in her life. First thing was first, though, before any more overthinking: Liana’s book was getting soaked by that dripping.

“If you moved to the left a little bit, your book wouldn’t be getting so wet. You’re under a leaky pipe,” it said.

Liana looked up; she was indeed reading under a leaky pipe. She heeded its advice without a second thought and shuffled to the side, holding Snowberry and her beloved book tightly as she went. Liana was not fazed by this sudden voice. This was probably just her thinking about what it would be like if Snowberry could talk back to her. This was one of those imaginary friends that people were supposed to have when they were young, according to the books she read, and the stories exchanged in class last week about her classmates’ invented companions. Liana had never had one. Maybe this was it.

“Thank you,” said Liana, aloud. Her voice was low, and she spoke slowly and clearly. She didn’t care who heard her talking to the voice in her head. It took note of this.

“Can I read with you?” it asked cautiously. It just really wanted some peace and quiet, and this seemed like the place it was going to get it.

Liana’s face lit up, and she hugged Snowberry close to her chest. “Of course you can, Snowy!”

It was puzzled. Snowy? Ah yes, Snowberry. It realised with some dismay that Liana thought it was a figment of her imagination taking the form of her strange bear-hippo creature. It knew for sure now that Snowberry was supposed to be a bear, but it just didn’t look right. Snowberry’s distant relatives had to be hippos.

Liana laughed a musical giggle. It looked at her smiling face in confusion. She had heard the quip about Snowberry being descended from hippos? It didn’t know how to feel about that but felt it didn’t have much right to demand privacy now that it had learned everything there was to know about Liana.

“You’re funny,” said Liana happily, turning back to her book and unknowingly filling up the house of words with many more musings and thoughts that would be transferred onto the parchment constructing the world inside her head. Through it all, Snowy, now a permanent resident of Liana’s little house of words, became blissfully immersed in Liana relaying a story of wizards until the ringing of the lunch bell.


	3. The Rattling in Her Chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: depiction of a panic attack.**
> 
> Snowy learns something new about Liana, and even more surprisingly learns that she is the only one who can help her with it.

Snowy didn’t remember much about itself, or rather, herself. Liana considered her Snowberry to be female, and so Snowy thought of herself that way too. She honestly liked the idea of somebody having a ready-made personality waiting for her when she got here, wherever “here” was. It saved her the trouble of soul searching and discovering who she was when she had a pre-determined persona to slip into, even if it wasn’t of her own creation.

Whoever she was and whomever had decided it, she seemed to be funny, as she kept making Liana laugh at times she shouldn’t have been laughing. She couldn’t help it; laughter was such a nice sound, and Snowy seemed to be able to make it come so easily. She made playful jabs at the teachers and the students that Snowy could see Liana had no love or patience for and told the occasional knock-knock joke. But indeed, it seemed to have broken poor Liana’s heart when the teacher screamed at her for giggling at one of Snowy’s quips about the possibility of teachers being vampires (“Lia, think about it, have you ever seen one eat garlic? HAVE YOU?!”).

“You may not think it, Liana Thomas, but you’re not too good to pay attention to my class,” Mrs Broly had snapped, holding a wooden ruler in a disturbingly similar fashion to how a teacher from years past may have held a belt. “See me after school today.”

It was the laughs from the other students that the teacher did nothing to prevent that made Liana’s eyes prickle. Snowy felt a sudden shift in Liana’s mood; she’d been so joyful just a few moments ago, but now the terror swimming around her head was all consuming. Liana was in pain, even if it was merely internal, and it was affecting Snowy on unanticipated levels. She could feel everything Liana did. It wasn’t on the same level, but it was very much there.

“Hey, Lia, relax, she just wants to speak to you after school,” Snowy said reassuringly. She tried to say calm, but Liana’s panic was seeping into her own mind too.

Liana simply shook her head in the smallest, slowest way possible so that nobody but Snowy would notice. It wasn’t Mrs Broly that Liana was afraid of, it was someone else. Liana didn’t have to say anything, Snowy knew: Liana would have to explain to her mother why she was late home. From what she’d involuntarily heard earlier in the day, that would not be a pleasant conversation.

Liana was so anxious her teeth were chattering for the rest of the day. Other students mocked her when they passed, as they finally had an opportunity to claim the moral high ground over the spotless record of Liana Thomas. She thought she was so much better than them and had to be taken down a peg or ten. Snowy noticed the lack of concern the adults had over these clear acts of intimidation, yet they had thrown an absolute fit over Liana laughing to herself. She supposed that a lot could go unseen in this kind of environment. 

Through it all, Liana’s brain wouldn’t stop feeding her worst-case scenarios when she mulled over the oncoming conversation with her mother. Liana thought to herself how much better it would be for everyone if she could just fade into the background and not bother anyone anymore. She couldn’t do anything right, and she wasn’t helping anyone. Her mother was right. Her mother was right about it all. It was all her fault.

Snowy wished she could explain that it wasn’t Liana’s fault, whatever “it” was, but Liana’s fears were making it difficult for her to get a word in. For some reason Snowy couldn’t explain, she understood everybody’s frustration with Liana. She didn’t think Liana deserved torment, particularly to this degree, but the teachers and students had obviously mistaken Liana’s silence and preference for books over people as a sign of a superiority complex. It’s not that Liana thought she was too good for everyone, she just correctly assumed that she was different and separated herself from others. When you had no trouble fitting in, it was difficult to see from the point of view of someone on the outside. But Snowy, having no idea why, could see both sides with perfect clarity.

Yet, despite being empathetic towards these opposing parties, Snowy wanted to protect Liana. This little girl with a golden musical laugh who could read her stories when she wasn’t in class was the only thing she had. When she was sad, Snowy was sad, though in a more literal sense than a sympathetic one. Whatever Snowy had done in her desperation to read that book about wizards, she’d tied herself closely to Liana to do it. Too close.

The last bell of the day rang. Liana’s struggled for breath. Something in her chest was rattling. It was happening again. The thing she could never explain or comprehend was happening again. She didn’t know how to stop it. She doubted Snowy would know how to stop it either. Liana was afraid. She had nearly gone a whole week without this. Why now? She’d finally made a friend she wanted to keep, and now she was going to scare her away.

Mrs Broly wasn’t a bad person, Snowy could tell that much. She got the sense that she was just like Liana once; young, friendless and scared. That time had made her cynical and cold, and once she got a job as a teacher, educating all the same children she had desperately wished to never see again when she left school as a teenager, it was easier to be abrasive than to go through all that again in adulthood. Despite seeing through Mrs Broly’s terrifying exterior so completely, Snowy had little pity for her. Terrible childhood or not, bullying a child was deeply wrong.

Mrs Broly ranted at length about how insufferable Liana was to teach; her head was always in the clouds, she was always reading those books instead of working and she never made an effort with her classmates. Liana wasn’t even trying. Liana never tried. Mrs Broly seemed to be releasing a lot of pent-up aggression at once, even if not all of it was gained with Liana in mind originally. These words were filling Snowy with a silent but palpable rage, but Liana seemed not to have taken them in. She was concentrating too hard on calming the storm inside her ribcage. The rattling wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t breathe.

Mrs Broly, having finally exhausted herself listing Liana’s every flaw, sent her out the door. Once Liana was outside, she took a few steps down the hall and collapsed to her knees, hyperventilating. She had hoped to hold it off for once, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen. Oh well. She just had to get this over with, and then she could go home and rest. Where her mother was waiting. She hyperventilated some more at the thought.

“Lia!” Snowy let the panicked yell out as she saw Liana slowly curl up into a ball, rocking back and forth, balancing on her tailbone. She buried her face in her knees as she went. She was muttering something that Snowy couldn’t quite make out, but Snowy could guess it was the same mantra that was running through Liana’s mind at that moment: ‘Liana isn’t here, Liana went away’. 

“Okay,” said Snowy, slowly and as calmly as possible. “Okay… Liana isn’t here…”

Whatever was happening to Liana, she was losing her sense of identity. She was losing who she was, and Snowy had all the information that could bring her back.

“I met this great girl called Lia today,” said Snowy, in the most comforting voice Liana had ever heard. “Would you like to hear about her? It might help you find Liana again.”

Liana’s rapid breaths were preventing her from saying another word, but she tried her best to nod. Snowy noted her effort.

“Lia lives in a big house with her mother,” said Snowy. She didn’t want to overstep or reveal just how much she knew about Liana, but she knew she had to do something to calm Liana down in the absence of a paper bag to breathe into. 

Snowy searched around Liana’s memories. In the onslaught of information gained from their first encounter, she’d barely had time to absorb it all, and the little she remembered clearly at the moment would not help her right now. 

She kept searching, as quickly as she could, all too aware of Liana’s shaking body on the floor of the corridor. Oh, okay. This one was perfect.

“Lia goes to the park a lot, she takes the bus and goes by herself,” said Snowy. “It’s very brave, Lia’s only eight years old, you know. But she does a lot of things herself. I wish I were like Lia. I’d like to go to the park with Lia one day. But before I can, I need Liana back. So…”

Snowy didn’t think this would work, but she was out of options.

“Breathe with me.”

Snowy, of course, could not breathe. She lacked the physical form. But she counted carefully, saying the numbers loud and clear so Liana could hear them.

“Okay, breathe in, best you can Lia, don’t worry if you get it wrong. You can try again. 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… okay, now back out again, but this time for 11 seconds… okay, that’s it…”

Liana didn’t get it immediately, but through Snowy’s assurances that there was no need to get it right the first time, eventually she breathed in time with Snowy’s steady counting.   
Liana regained a normal breathing rate, and the rattling in her chest faded, replaced with an empty husk. Liana was exhausted, drained and even felt a deep sense of shame, but she could breathe again. She used her reclamation of control to slowly stand up and take shaky steps out the front door of the school. Snowy didn’t say or do anything else as she followed Liana outside.

“Thank you,” said Liana softly. “No one’s ever been able to stop one of those before.”

Snowy knew that no one had ever tried, as they had never witnessed it happen to her, but all the same said, “you’re welcome.”

“You can come home if you want,” said Liana. She tried to sound casual but the eagerness in her voice was evident. Snowy wasn’t sure she had much choice but to go with Liana now, but all the same she wanted to. She didn’t want to send Liana away on her own if something like that would happen again.

They walked down the street in silence, Liana’s little black boots clicking against the cobbles as they did. Snowy tried to focus on the rhythm created by the small sharp sounds to avoid bringing what just happened to the surface again. At this point in time, Liana learned her first important lesson from Snowy: the more you tried not to think about something, the harder it was to keep from the forefront of your mind. Snowy didn’t want to think about what happened, so it was all she was thinking about, and Liana heard it loud and clear.

“I don’t know how that happens,” said Liana.

“What?” said Snowy unconvincingly.

“I can hear you too, Snowy,” said Liana, with a humourless giggle. “I can hear you wondering how to talk to me about that. I don’t know what happens or how to stop it. I just can’t stop shaking sometimes.”

Snowy wanted to ask Liana if it had anything to do with her mother, but the moment she thought of that Liana tensed up again, and Snowy decided against it. Snowy was beginning to regret tying herself to irreversibly to someone like this if it meant she felt everything that Liana did. Liana was a person with a lot of negative emotions when she wasn’t reading. Perhaps there was a way of getting some distance. She supposed she would find out somewhere down the line.

Liana suddenly stopped walking. “You don’t want to come to my house anymore.”

“No, I do!” Snowy insisted. She really did. She had nowhere else to go.

“You think I’m too sad,” Liana said, sounding so defeated. The only person she wanted to be her friend was already sick of her. Of course she was.

“Liana, no…” said Snowy carefully, overwhelmed with guilt. “I’m just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to cheer people up. I don’t think I can make you happier.”

Liana shrugged. “I don’t want you to make me happier. I just wanted you to come over to mine. Sometimes I’m sad, but… you don’t have to fix it. My mum doesn’t fix it, you don’t have to.”

Snowy was alarmed at how Liana didn’t realise how heart-breaking a thing that was to say about your mother, but relieved that Liana wasn’t expecting Chloe to get rid of her sadness and panic. Snowy wasn’t sure she could. She couldn’t possibly say how she’d managed to pull Liana out of whatever happened back there. She just had.

“I’m sorry,” said Snowy. “It’s okay to be sad sometimes. I’ll be sad with you.”

Liana tilted her head. “You want to be sad with me?”

“Well, when you’re sad I get sad too, I can’t control it,” said Snowy. “But if we’re sad together, it might not be so lonely?”

Liana was all for curing loneliness, and her face lit up.

“I’m happy now, can you be happy with me?” Liana said, beaming. The sight of her smile made Snowy feel warm, despite the winter cold.

“Yeah,” said Snowy. “I can be happy with you right now.”

The two girls walked the rest of the way home, Liana blissfully chatting away about the other books she read during her lunch hour, and Liana had long forgotten what she had been panicking about until she reached the front door of her house.


	4. The Travellers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snowy makes a discovery about Liana's past.

_2006_

The months that followed revealed why exactly Liana was so terrified of her mother. Susan Thomas never raised a hand to her daughter, but that would imply that any attention was paid to the girl at all. Susan only spoke to her daughter to reprimand her, or to ask for a quick favour because she did so much for Liana, after all. Snowy noticed that Susan seemed to have great difficulty looking Liana in the eye. Snowy even observed Susan when she was by herself, and she was a totally different person when Liana wasn’t around. She had a spring in her step, she talked happily to her friends on the phone. When Liana entered the room, Susan’s shoulders sagged, and her face fell. For whatever reason, Liana genuinely made her mother miserable. It broke Snowy’s heart.

The first day Liana brought Snowy home, Snowy had a terrible epiphany. Liana wasn’t scared of her mother because she was violent. She was scared of her mother because being with her was so awkward and silent, and even loveless at times. Liana couldn’t make sense of her mother’s discomfort around her the same way she could make sense of her books. It was a heart-breaking and unsolvable puzzle. Snowy didn’t even have the capacity to be angry at this. It was just sad.

The tension that existed between mother and daughter never stopped Liana and Snowy from having fun, however. Liana had quite the extensive collection of stuffed animals besides Snowberry, and Snowy helped her create all sorts of adventures for them. That very afternoon, in Liana’s own bedroom, Bakkles the buffalo and Sunny the sea turtle explored an icy tundra in search of the Lost Treasure of Captain Thomas and her First Mate Snowberry. All the while, Liana laughed harder than she had in a long time. Snowy loved these moments. She loved reading stories with Liana at school and making them up with her when they were at home. Their world was one of wonder, and it was just for them.

Snowy did have to wonder, however, where Liana had acquired all these wonderful and unique furry companions. Surely her mother hadn’t bought them for her, they were far too luxurious. Either Susan had a tendency to make guilt purchases for her daughter to avoid apologising for rotten behaviour, or someone else gave these to Liana; someone who cared about her deeply.

The soft toy adventures ended at nightfall, and when Liana slept, Snowy explored. She ventured out to the surrounding streets and even went to the park that Liana took the bus to on occasion. She found that she could leave Liana, but still read her every thought. Snowy was still working on not involuntarily receiving everything Liana felt and thought; it was an intrusive way to make new friends, in her opinion. She hoped she could stop doing it soon, as Liana tended to have nightmares almost every night that Snowy preferred not to see.

Despite her exploration of everywhere she could go outside of the Thomas residence without worrying about leaving Liana behind, there was one room she never went into. It was through the first door on the left in the hallway whenever Liana came home from school and walked in the front door. Liana always dashed past it, as if something in there was hunting her and she didn’t want to be caught. Liana’s naked fear of whatever was in there similarly frightened Snowy, and she never dared to go inside.

However, one night, Liana was having a very pleasant dream about a unicorn who liked to go spelunking. Snowy’s heart glowed when she realised this dream was very similar to that afternoon’s adventure with the stuffed animals. With Liana’s subconscious finally giving the girl a break, the fear of that room was alleviated for Snowy. Curiosity was overwhelming her. She didn’t want to peer into Liana’s mind to solve the mystery of what was in there for fear of interrupting her dream. Snowy would find out herself.

She floated down the stairs and ever so slowly moved through the door. What she found on the other side had not been what she was expecting.

The room appeared to be a reluctant tribute to a handsome young Asian man, who was in a different suit in every picture. There was a table at the back wall that boasted a very neat but dusty display of photographs of the man. The contents of the room otherwise consisted of several boxes, marked as “clothes” and “books” and so on. There was a small fireplace, and a large window with drawn curtains. They looked like they hadn’t been opened in a long time.

There was one large picture on the wall adjacent to the window. It was on a beach, and the photo’s subjects were scrunching their eyes, either because they were staring directly into the sun or because they were laughing so hard. The man from all the photos was there, having traded his suits for a pair of swimming trunks, and he was with Liana, but she was younger than she was now. She clutched a beach ball while the man hugged her around the waist, holding her close to him. Snowy had never seen two people look so content before.

Snowy realised; Liana was of Asian descent, and her mother was not. This man was. This was Liana’s father. He was dead, and this room was all the family had left of him. Everything he owned and everything he was had been hidden away in here. His ghost haunted Liana and she could feel it whenever she laid eyes on the door to this room.

Snowy focused on the large picture of Liana and her father on the wall. She recognised it. She recognised him. She had learned so much about Liana the day they met, but it had been so much at once that it was difficult to retain. Looking at this picture, scraps of knowledge were coming back to her.

His name was Akihiro Nakashima. Liana and her mother had gone by Nakashima before his death too, but after the accident Susan insisted on returning to her maiden name and made Liana do the same. Liana hadn’t wanted to. Akihiro was a journalist who had met Susan in their university years. They married quickly and had Liana soon after. Akihiro doted on his daughter, and they had the perfect relationship. He was so happy all the time. It made Liana happy too.

They had initially been a close-knit family, but things changed when Liana was still a toddler. Susan became distant, and Akihiro smiled less. When he did, it was always a sad smile. Liana never knew why and subsequently, neither did Snowy. One thing never changed: Akihiro travelled for work, and when he did, he sometimes took Liana with him. He talked to her teachers if he had to and sat with her in the hotel room whenever he could, catching her up to speed with everything she’d miss at school while she was away. Their trips together became more frequent the more distant Susan became. Akihiro didn’t want to leave Liana alone with her.

One afternoon, during a business trip in Portugal, Liana had been completing her homework and her father came back to the hotel early to surprise her.

“Daddy!” she had squealed, running into her father’s open arms and clinging to him around the neck. Akihiro held his daughter tight, smiling away.

“Hey, Leezie Lindsay,” he’d said, ruffling her hair. His nickname for her was based on an old Scots song. He loved it so that he absentmindedly called her Leezie one day. Liana had giggled and asked what that was, and he sang the song for her. Liana adored it so much that she insisted on being called Leezie Lindsay from that day forward. 

When Liana pulled away, she saw her father was carrying a bucket, a spade, a deflated beach ball and various other beach toys in a canvas bag over his shoulder. Liana’s eyes lit up with glee.

“I’ve got the rest of the day off, and I thought… would Liana like to go to the beach?” Akihiro stood up and playfully turned his head away from her. “Oh, probably not, I think she wants to stay here and finish her homework…”

Liana flailed her arms and stomped her feet. “No, I wanna go to the beach! I wanna go to the beach!”

Akihiro giggled helplessly. “Well go on then, go get your swimming costume!”

They’d had a wonderful time that day – they built sandcastles, and sand fortresses, Liana had buried Akihiro in the sand while he begged passers-by to save him (they did not oblige), and Akihiro gave Liana her first swimming lessons. Liana was a nervous swimmer, but Akihiro made her feel confident in the sea. He held onto her as she performed an apprehensive front crawl. He let go when he thought she needed to try on her own but was careful to never venture far from her. He knew the importance of letting children stand on their own two feet, or swim with their own four limbs.

After a particularly exhilarating game of “Akihiro throws a beach ball and Liana runs to catch it”, Akihiro asked a nearby lifeguard to take a photo of them both. It was the photo Snowy was looking at now. The memories she experienced when standing before it were so sweet that she willed herself to stop thinking about this. She didn’t want to know how it ended. No more prying. It wasn’t her business.

Snowy returned to Liana. She had been so caught up in memories, she forgot how different Liana was now. She was only three years older than she was when she had visited the beach with Akihiro, yet she seemed like she had aged decades. Without her father to support her, she had raised herself since his passing. Snowy noticed with some dismay that her vivid recollections of Liana and Akihiro’s short time together through the girl had led to Liana’s dreams of unicorn spelunking being turned into a dream of being chased by a giant beach ball. 

Snowy sat on Liana’s bed, watching the dawn illuminate her disturbed face. She wasn’t sure if she was happy or not that she’d gone into that room.


End file.
